Camille
by HermioneGrangerTwin
Summary: It is one thing for two people to flirt and pretend they don't know the other is watching them. It is quite another to do so in the presence of another. R/S.


Camille

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It is one thing for two people to flirt and pretend they don't know the other is watching them. It is quite another to do so in the presence of another. Especially when the extra is seventh year Camille Burbage from your Arithmancy course. She came to ask you about your homework from Professor Vector assigned one day, and now she's always there, sitting at the table you've always shared with Scorpius. You wish she'd just leave the two of you alone to go back to normal.

You find Scorpius and yourself carefully not touching, a far cry from the knocking knees and playful cuffs to the arm. He suddenly absorbs himself in his History of Magic textbook. The two of you are finally getting some work done now, but you find you don't like it. As much as the two of you talked about getting work done, it isn't nearly as fun. You would prefer to return to the days when you and Scorpius spent your free period laughing and teasing each other. You miss your healthy conversations―Al calls them arguments―and the surreptitious glances across the library table.

_She_ has invaded your table with her silky blond hair and laughter that makes you cringe. She's not smart, even remotely. But he enjoys her company, which you can't comprehend. He laughs at _her_ jokes, listens to _her_ speak.

You don't like it. Not one bit. But what can you do? Tell her to leave. That would go over well.

Today, she feels the need to tell you about a seventh year only party she's going to on Friday. She says some special ones could be invited from sixth year. "You could go," she tells you, smiling. "Being James Potter's cousin. I'd bring you myself."

"I don't like parties," you say carefully, watching Scorpius out of the corner of your eye.

He despises parties, often deriding those who go. He leaves at the mere mention of any formal gathering, and you usually do the same. That was how you found each other in first year. There was a party in both your Houses that night, a welcome back celebration. You immediately left for the library and found him, sitting alone at a table in the middle of the library where you asked to join him. That's where it all started.

Now, you're sharing this table with _her_. Just as the two of you were realized what you were to each other, _she_ decides to join you. She's ruined all your plans; any chance you had of getting him to see you this year. She laughs at your simple statement. "You don't have to _like_ this kind of party, if you know what I mean." Your brow furrows. She rolls her eyes. "There will be plenty of alcohol, Rose. I wouldn't go if there wasn't."

You laugh nervously. "I don't drink." Alcohol bothers Scorpius more than parties ever did. It has touched his life too personally for him to forget his aversion. His father came to alcohol after the Second War. The guilt of all he'd done, all he'd been a part of affected him too deeply, so hauntingly that he would drown himself in Firewhiskey every night just to forget. He wanted to escape the memories of the screaming. The sound of your mother screams drove him to the edge. That he could attach a name to the sound of such agony touched him so closely it burned. It burned its way into his dreams, his nightmares. His waking hours reminded him of every scream he'd induced, every cry he'd heard at Voldemort's hands. He couldn't stand it. He had to veil every reminder of the pain.

Scorpius's mother changed him; pulled him out of the hole he had committed himself to, the only life of which he thought he was worthy. She would not allow him to do such a thing to himself. Draco Malfoy would _not_ allow his son to drink, and his son would not allow it either.

Scorpius's chair shifts. It is almost unnoticeable, if you hadn't been his friend for five full years, you might not have known it. He moves his chair closer to you. You almost smile. It's petty, but his sudden isolation of _her_ makes you so happy you could giggle. She says nothing more, and the next day, Scorpius takes your hand and leads you to a table in the back of the library, hidden from everyone else. Maybe Camille isn't so bad after all…

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A/N: On my lessening updates: see my profile.


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